C2 The Pole Dancer

Diane’s P.O.V.

The examination week would start tomorrow. As usual, my brain was empty because it was quite hard for me to study. It was my last year in college. I had to pass the eight exams with the complex pre-board test and two thesis defenses. It was like finding a needle in the haystack, but those would finally complete my course in Accountancy.

It was indeed satisfying to think that in just a little time, I would be able to fulfill my goals one by one, most especially my dreams for my family. They were my inspirations on each passing day. They were the reason why giving up was never an option for me, so I just kept on getting up in life’s every battle.

Life was difficult and painful. It was a land of suffering, not to mention that it was indeed unfair. But after all, I chose to be optimistic. Everything would change depending on how you viewed life, and I was not the kind of person that would focus on problems. I focused on the solutions.

Just a little more patience, Diane. You can do it! You will graduate on time.

It was hard to be a college student in the morning and a dancer at night… but we were not born with a silver spoon, so I had to be a working student. Earning money was my topmost priority, and that was the reason why I had to study and work at the same time. Oftentimes, I had almost no sleep at all, but I just lived with it because I had to save money for the future.

Besides, I had two siblings who were studying too: one in fourth-year high school, and the other one was in grade six. We were young when our father left us—I was only twelve by then. Ever since our father died, Mom had gotten ill, and she would sometimes become bedridden. Somehow, I was still grateful that Dad was a police officer, and he left us with our own house to live in. At least, it had lessened our overall expenses.

Honestly, I did not want to be a club dancer. But that was the only night job that apart from helping me to provide for my siblings to study, was also able to continue Mom’s daily medication needs.

She has high blood pressure, and that illness used to attack her almost every week. It was hard to be the eldest, but for their sake, I was willing to sacrifice and do everything. I could get tired, but giving up should never be included in my vocabulary. If I gave up, what about them? My siblings were too young to suffer, and I didn’t want that to happen.

A little sway of flaunting curves from my gorgeous body means nothing because the customers would not be able to see my face. They could only watch me while dancing on the stage, but they did not have the authority to touch me. I was wearing a mask here in the club, so they would not be able to know me except for the staff here.

Aunt Lucy, the owner of the club, was my Mom’s college buddy, and that was our terms before I signed the contract before I became a dancer here. I should not be also included in the girls who lured themselves on the table, and I would not wear any scantily-clad clothes that would reveal every inch of my skin.

Some people would say that I was very demanding, knowing that I was the one asking for a job, but I was conservative. Not all club dancers were paid to go and fuck with customers. I wasn’t counted in those go-all-the-way dancers. I was different and would be forever convicted to my principle—that would be giving my body to the man I loved.

Although many customers liked me to be at their tables, I would not give in to their amends. Even if they were ready to spend millions of tips, I still ignored them. Someone once approached me and offered me a golden pair of necklace and wristwatch for a one-night stand, but I ended up walking out. I was on the verge of smashing his face around.

But above all these, I allowed one avid customer to talk to me, and that was none other than Leandro.

“Clariz, you are next!” I heard Martina shouted at the dressing room door.

I just nodded while taking care of my things and segregating the other dancer’s outfits as if it was my responsibility. While some were keepers, other dancers here were such a mess when it came to their dresses and shoes. A variety of glittering clothes, sandals, and boxes of makeup were scattered all over the floor, so it was difficult to look for their specific things, most especially when they needed those.

Here at Lucy’s Club, we were not allowed to reveal our real names. It was in favor of me to fully hide my identity. That Martina who called me? Her real name was Maria Bettina, and she was the only one who doesn’t like me here. It was because Aunt Lucy always favored me, even though I had so many requests.

Anyway, Clariz was my second name, and I didn’t know what was her trip to always call me by my real name—when my nickname here should be Claire. Sometimes, I would just ignore her and laugh at her secretly, but there was one time that I confronted and asked her what her problem was. She said nothing but continued to be a bully. She was so insecure.

Martina had so many issues in life! She never ran out of issues. Even though it was a small issue starting from losing her cheap face powder, she would like to make it a bigger one. Aside from me, she would also bully the new dancers and waitresses in the club. But I guessed I was the one who she loathed the most more than anyone.

The main reason? Because I was sexier and much younger than her. My hair was shiny compared to her dull hair full of bleach, breakage, and split ends. Also, Martina liked Leandro ever since—that no matter how hard I tried to deny and forget about it, I knew for a fact that he liked me.

From the dressing room, I went to the course that would take me to the stage. I seemed to be doing a fashion show ramp while the spotlight and the eyes of the customers were only focused on me.

Of course, perverted guys would look at me like I was a piece of meat, but I always ended up snubbing them since that was what they could just do. After all, they could only look at my body. They could never claim me.

Wearing my black mask, short ripped-denim shorts that fitted my long thighs, four-inch high heels that I got comfortably used to wear while dancing, and a silver cropped-top sleeveless, I positioned myself in the middle of the stage and began to sway in a piece of seductive music. My shoulder-length hair was slightly curled at the bottom and freely loose over my shoulder, which added heat to my already sultry look.

I grabbed the pole and started to bend, dance, and spin around it. Pole dancing was my mastery, and my delicate skin seemed to be always harmonizing with it. This was one of the main reasons why most customers liked me. Pole dancing was new in their eyes, and because I was the only one doing pole dancing here, they could never get enough of me.

But as much as everyone here dared to woo me and win my heart, I did not even fall into one of them. Not even Leandro, because I only considered him as a friend.

Leandro James Evangelista was a twenty-five-year-old young businessman of this generation. At his age, he was undeniably a very successful one while managing his own business.

Handsome. Hardworking. Wealthy. Those were the perfect words to describe him. You would never be ashamed to introduce Leandro to your family and friends. He was the type of guy who was unquestionably good-looking—someone who seemed to be the boy-next-door type and a matinée heartthrob. As in, I could say that Leandro was indeed a boyfriend material.

But despite everything, I didn’t like him. I just couldn’t like him.

You can’t force your heart to like someone just because they like you, right?

I didn’t know the reason why. Perhaps, it was because my radar could sense a bit of his arrogance—most especially when he opened his mouth to boast about the things he already achieved in life. What I didn’t like the most was conceited. He might just treat me like a trophy that he won in a contest when he introduced me to his family and friends.

Some other girls might like Leandro right away. But for me? I didn’t feel a little bit about him every time we were together, aside from being a friend. There was no such thing as an incredible spark and a strange leap over the chest. There were no butterflies in the stomach, and I could not feel that I was on cloud nine whenever I see him. I didn’t feel that way about him. Just casual. It was just right.

I knew that I was looking for something else, and I had not seen it yet. It was something people say that you would automatically feel when you laid eyes on that special someone. Maybe, it was an eccentric heartbeat that would make everything around you completely stop.

Minutes went by in a blur, I did not realize that my dance number was finally over. I guessed my position above the pole took a little while longer. I carefully slid down, conditioned myself to stand straight, smiled, and bowed to the audience. Loud applause soon followed.

Going backstage and about to get straight to the dressing room, someone suddenly grabbed my right wrist and quickly pulled me into the darker side that was less visible to anyone passing by from that corner. I got scared, making my heart lurch.